John.
[Turning to her.] Where you are?
Theophila.
You know, there’s always a moment in the lives of a man and woman who are tied to each other when the man has a chance of making the woman really, really, his own property. It’s only a moment; if he let’s the chance slip, it’s gone—it never comes back. I fancy my husband had his chance to-day. If he had just put his hand on my shoulder this afternoon and said, “You fool, you don’t deserve it, for your stupidity, but I’ll try to save you——”; if he had said something, anything, of that kind to me, I think I could have gone down on my knees to him and——[Coming to John excitedly.] But he stared at the carpet, and held on to his head, and moaned out that he must have time, time! Time! Oh, he was my one bit of rock! [Throwing herself into a chair on the right.] If he’d only mercifully stuck to me for a few months—three months—two—for a month——!
John.
[Going to her slowly and deliberately, and standing by her.] Mrs. Fraser. [She looks up at him surprised.] Of course, whatever future is in store for you, nothing—no luck, no happy times—can ever pay you back for the distress of mind you’ve gone through.
Theophila.
Nothing, Jack—Mr. Allingham. [Her hand to her brow.] Oh, nobody knows! Oh, Jack, some nights—some nights—I’ve said my prayers.
John.
I’ve found myself doing that too—in hansoms, or walking along the street.